Criminal Mastermind
by cgaussie01
Summary: A short, shockingly sfw, 3 part story about Junkrat and Roadhog 'hooking' up.
1. Chapter 1

He was, to put it bluntly, exhausted. It had been a long, successful day and now the exhausted mountain of a man had made his way to the corner of the warehouse he and his boss/partner in crime were holding out in. Roadhog pulled out a thin, patchy sleeping bag and rolled it out on the floor before slowly laying himself atop it. There wasn't a sleeping bag alive that he could squeeze himself into, so he didn't even attempt to do so. Rolling onto his side, the man used his left arm as a pillow for his head as that was the most comfortable thing to use when there weren't any pillows around.

This was as comfortable as it could get for Roadhog without a proper bed beneath him. But he'd slept with less. He had slept long, cold nights in the dust and dirt of the Australian outback countless times. Cold hard cement was not the comfiest place to sleep either but he managed because beggars can't be choosers. You take what the world gives you, and you either work with it, or throw it back in the worlds face.

He was just beginning to doze when he heard the approach of Junkrat. It was impossible to miss, that hobbling sound he made wherever he went thanks to the peg leg he sported. Roadhog opened his eyes just a faction, face as normal hidden behind his mask, as he watched the young man with the bald patches stand there observing him in silence. That much was a surprise, because since when was Junkrat quiet? Almost never. He grumbled and hissed at him enough about being quiet, shutting his mouth, and the guy never listened.

Here, he was silent.

Junkrat approached the same way a timid animal would approach a larger, far more dangerous creature. His face was pale, but it was equally red at the same time. Was that sweat trickling down his forehead? Roadhog couldn't tell and he was, thus far, still pretending to be asleep otherwise Junkrat wouldn't be moving so close to him in such a fashion. Suddenly the younger man was sitting right beside him on the floor, flesh hand reaching out shakily but stopping itself before it touched any part of Roadhog. It pressed itself, instead, right against Junkrat's chest as if it were keeping his heart from bursting free of his rib cage.

But suddenly it was back, waving itself quickly in front of Roadhog's face. Testing to see if he was asleep? Most likely. But sure, Roadhog was curious where this was going. Was Junkrat going to try and remove his mask? That was the biggest, and first, rule that Roadhog had laid down when they'd paired up. Don't ask about the mask, don't take off the mask, just accept the mask. Junkrat had rapidly accepted. But now here he was, waving in front of it like an anxiously over-excited child.

When his waving earned him a zero on the reaction scale, Junkrat promptly laid himself down across from Roadhog. Just lying there, staring with intensity that normally only showed when he was about ready to pull the trigger on his detonator. But before Roadhog could finally end the charade and give the guy a scare with a well-placed snort and demand of what the Hell was going on here, Junkrat closed the space between them.

He was kissing him. Well, not him but his mask. His lips pressed desperately against the black leather masks stitched lips, his hand trembling as it held against one of the breathing filters on the mask. And still, Roadhog did not move. His eyes were staring at him through the thick, protective lenses of his mask and remained unmoving. Before it would have been hilarious, scaring the kid, but now the idea felt too cruel. So he remained still, even once Junkrat had pulled away, giggling nervously under his breath as he scrambled to his foot and peg leg and left the room shivering with adrenaline normally only earned after a good bombing.

Junkrat looked like the cat who stole the cream.

Little did he know the cream had been fully aware the whole time.

And he called himself a criminal mastermind.


	2. Chapter 2

Back arched, Junkrat lay on the not entirely but comfortable enough bed as he held a ripped, stained, and partly torn notebook high above his head in his out stretched hands. Between his teeth, a pencil that was gnawed and chipped sat, currently earning itself even more bite marks along its already bitten hide. The time had come to concoct the next big phase in his and Roadhog's never ending crime spree across the planet.

Those Crown Jewels were awfully pretty and incredibly enticing to somebody obsessed with sparkly things like a Magpie was. Junkrat wanted them. He wanted to gloat and pose with the golden, gleaming things. Plus the crown would look exceptionally fancy on his head. Roadhog's too, if he was really honest with himself.

His attention was drawn away by heavy footfalls and turned his head to see Roadhog entering the room. The heavy set man made his way over to the window and shut the blinds with a gentle tug on a chord, sealing away the daylight that had been growing harsher. Junkrat was about to complain, saying he needed that light, but stopped himself when he saw Roadhog lift a hand to unfasten the clasp at the back of his head.

The mask fell from his face, landing comfortably in a waiting, outstretched palm that could easily smother Junkrat's face with little to no effort. He sat up, setting his notepad down and spat his pencil from his mouth. Where did it land? Didn't matter. Roadhog was maskless and that was always a good reason to forget anything else existed and focus on the sight before him.

Thick eyebrows that had once been black were now a faded silver to match his mane of hair that was still tied back in its tiny pony tail. A thick, solid nose held a piercing that Junkrat forgot the name of. It was like a bull, you know, the type you'd tie a rope around to lead the animal easily. Not that he'd do such a thing to Roadhog, he heavily doubted the older man would be into that. Unless he was. Would he? Even if they were together he highly doubted it.

Thick lips were cracked and scarred, as was most of his face but that was a given. You don't live in the Australian outback fighting omnics and government alike without earning a few good scars here and there. If anything, they made his face even more handsome than it was before. If that were even seemingly possible. A tattoo covered his chin, but it was partly concealed thanks to some silver whiskers beginning to grow. He'd have to shave soon.

"Wot's up Hog?" Junkrat asked, watching as the man walked towards him and the bed, instinctively scooting back a little when Roadhog sat on the edge of it. The already suffering mattress gave a wheezing squeak in pain as half of it collapsed under the massive weight, lifting Junkrat minutely higher due to the shift in weight and strength of the already tired springs.

He didn't get an answer and that made him tense. What was wrong with him? Roadhog was silent, yes, and Junkrat knew how to read that silence but right now he couldn't understand this silence at all. There wasn't comfort here, anger, and any other emotion was missing from the scenario. Junkrat shifted a bit more, eyes still glued to Roadhog's exposed, neutral face.

"I know." was all Roadhog said, and those two words spoken in that way, in that deep, low voice had all of Junkrat's emotions well up within him like a bomb wanting to go off.

Know? Know what? Junkrat was clear and easy to read as a glass window. A shattered, filth covered window. Long story short you could see what he was thinking, how he was feeling, more or less one hundred percent of the time since he wasn't one to hide himself or his emotions whatsoever. If he wore shirts with sleeves, one would almost say that he wore his emotions on his sleeves. But, there were no shirts, no sleeves, only raw, open emotion.

His face was a mix of panic and confusion. "Know what mate?" he asked, voice giving a small tremble. Again he shifted backwards. There wasn't much Roadhog didn't know about him. He was up front and honest about absolutely everything only having a bit of a joke when it came to the times Roadhog would ask about his arm and leg. The story changed every time. Crocodile. Bomb. Drop bear. Politician. Pelican. It was never the same story twice. But that was the fun of it.

There wasn't any fun here.

"A lot." Roadhog answered the question, before his large hand reached and pressed itself against the younger Junkers chest and pushed him back down onto the bed. He could most likely feel the rapid heartbeat of the Junker beneath him. He was scared yes, but this was also how many of his many fantasy scenarios had played out in his mind. How easy Roadhog could pin him, or push him up, against anything and do whatever he wanted to him. It made him tremble with anticipation but also fear.

Suddenly he realized what Roadhog had meant. He knew.

Shit, he knew.

"H-hey Roadie no hard feelings right I mean, can ya blame a bloke look at you how could any wally worth his salt not-"

"Shut up."

And, unlike every other time Roadhog ordered Junkrat to shut up, he did. His lips slammed shut and he continued to lay there, sweating madly, while his eyes remained locked on the older Junker. What was he going to do? Rip him to pieces? Whatever it was, he would get no fighting from Junkrat. He'd take anything the Hog would give him right now. A beating, a kissing, whatever it may be. If his shameless crush on the older man had just destroyed their working partnership he would get through it. He'd done it before, he'd do it again.

Jamison Junkrat Fawkes had survived the outback. At five years old he'd been robbed of his home, his family, and over the following years he would be robbed of limbs, a fully functioning mind, and even more yet he survived. He was the cockroach, the sneaking rat, nobody could bring him down to an end unless he wanted it and by God he wasn't about to give up now.

But when Roadhog's lips were suddenly on his stomach, of all places, Junrkat felt as if giving up was his only option. He wriggled, kicked his legs, and all but literally squealed as Roadhog assaulted his stomach with harsh blowing that made a noise he was not familiar with whatsoever. It earned laughter, from deep within Junkrat's anxious belly, and he squealed with laughter while trying to also force Roadhog off of him, and beg for mercy.

This wasn't what he'd thought would happen, not at all.

When the assault was over Junkrat was sweating, breathless, and trembling. He rolled onto his side, clutching at his belly, as he continued to tremble like a plastic bag caught in the crosswinds. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He felt the warmth of Roadhog's body as he sat closer still, his back now pressing against the others. The touch had Junkrat's spine tingle. Giving a wheezy breath he finally turned his head, looking over his shoulder, and up at Roadhog's back.

"So w-what does all that mean, m-mate? Cuz you ain't..." he paused to swallow, "Ain't makin' a lick of sense."

"Not meant to." Roadhog said as he picked up his mask from where he set it down, and slowly slid it back into place and clasped it there properly after adjusting the straps. "Next time make sure I'm really asleep before you kiss me." he says, before getting to his feet and exited the room.

Junkrat could just lay there, feeling as if he'd been manhandled by a living hurricane.

At least, before hiding his blushing face into his one good hand and swear violently to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Junkrat honestly couldn't tell if things were awkward between him and Roadhog now or not. Regardless as to whether or not the two were now living uncomfortably together, they had made their way into Europe through the back channels. They'd made their way through France, through the tunnels, and now they were in England. And there was only one reason, and one reason alone, to be in England.

And that was the Crown Jewels.

Their plans were set, the bombs were lit, and the bike was waiting. For all the high tech, first class quality surveillance that the Crown Jewels had nothing could compare to a good old fashion explosion blowing out the wall, shattering protective glass, and grabby hands. It had barely taken a few minutes. The Royal Guards didn't know what hit them. Among the gun fire and plumes of smoke the Junkers had made it back to Roadhog's waiting ride and away they went.

Above them helicopters hovered, lights searching the streets, police cars valiantly trying to keep up with the duo as they drove a bike that was older than the cops themselves were. But the bike was loved, looked after, and had an engine that would floor anyone who came near it. Roadhog handled it without thinking, like the bike was an extension of himself. Even with Junkrat laughing hysterically besides him, lobbing bombs and grenades at the police who attempted to catch up to them, the bike drove like a dream.

He also felt exceptionally pretty with the crown atop his head.

The police would have to fill in so much paperwork about how they let this happen. How two criminals had busted in, stolen the crown jewels, and taken off with them on a bike that still had wheels. No doubt they would be fired. The shame of the police world. Already the duo were on the news worldwide for nicking the Crown Jewels so easily. They would no doubt go down in history as one of the most notoriously renowned criminal pair in history.

Move over Bonnie and Clyde. Here comes Junkrat and Roadhog.

Wheezing with laughter, Roadhog makes his way through into a room and closes the door only once Junkrat had entered the room as well. They were in private now, high of the adrenaline of the successful heist and the gold Crown Jewels that were still theirs. Junkrat spun on his peg leg, now a golden scepter, before putting his hands to his hips. "All hail King Jamison Fawkes the First!"

"And Duke Mako." Roadhog added, pausing to admire himself in the mirror with the jeweled crown atop his masked head.

"Yeah!" Junkrat laughed, moving over to Roadhog and posed besides him, hand to his own chest. "Crawlin' our way up in the world, Hog. Already hit Japan 'n France, now we gotta go make a name for ourselves elsewhere!" he turned to look up at the taller man, heart still racing and he felt as though he had fire crackers in his stomach. Suddenly he launched up at him, throwing his arms around Roadhog's thick neck and pressed his lips to the leather lips of the mask.

Normally, he'd do such a thing when the other was asleep. He had only the guts to do it once and it had earned him a lesson from Roadhog but he could not stop himself now. He pressed himself against Roadhog, breaking the kiss off to erupt into further giggles of overly excited glee. The large man stood there, for but a second before he pushes Junkrat backwards. Giving a surprised noise Junkrat felt his back hit the bed and for the second time in as many a week Roadhog was pushing him down onto the bed.

The mask was gone, discarded, and he felt lips upon his stomach. For a moment a laugh fell from his lips but this was different. Roadhog wasn't blowing down against his skin like last time. Those were kisses. Roadhog's rough lips and warm breath tickled against Junkrat's skin, and he shifted his one good flesh hand down to touch the top of the older Junkers head. "H-ha what're you doin' down there.." he mumbled, a rare sensation of shyness blooming within him.

"Mmfh." was his answer from Roadhog as the lips began to, slowly, carefully, crawl higher. Junkrat's single foots toes curled in on themselves and he trembled. Unlike last time he was not laughing hysterically. He was feeling a sensation he'd only felt in private, especially not with Mako all but on top of him. God he was heavy. Not so heavy that it hurt, but that was a heavy weight Roadhog carried with him.

This was happening, right? It wasn't just his mind going into over drive with his fantasies like it normally did after a successful heist. He'd imagine Roadhog pushing him against a wall and kissing him desperately, with a hungry need he knew he'd never show for him. But this was happening, it was. This felt too real.

And when Roadhog's lips crushed themselves down against his own, stealing any and all breath from his lungs, Junkrat knew this was real. He kissed him back, hands gripping, the motion enough to knock the crown off of Roadhog's head as the two men remained locked in the heated, hungry kiss as they tasted one another's lips. Lips turned to tongue, as Junkrat felt Roadhog's thick, broad tongue ease itself into his mouth and he welcomed it as a generous host. It earned Roadhog a soft, breathless moan from the younger man which soon turned into a groan.

He pulled back a little, a blissed out expression on his face before he frowned a little, and shut his eyes. "You're kinda heavy, Hog." Junkrat murmured breathlessly, trying to find his voice from where it had retreated down his throat.

"Hfff..." a heavy breath from Roadhog, pushing down against his cheek, before the Junker rolled off of him to lay besides him on the bed. Giving a pull, Junkrat was easily rolled onto his side so the two were now facing one another.

Shit. Had he messed up? Was Roadhog going to reach for his mask and replace it? Junkrat did not want that, so he swiftly closed the space between them and kissed him hungrily this time. Their noses pushed against one another, so unused to being the kisser Junkrat poured all he could into it. Trying to say in actions, more so in words, that he didn't want this to be the only time they'd be like this. How much he wanted Roadhog, this tenderness, this affection.

Roadhog didn't respond at first but he very slowly returned the affection, like the old man he was being pulled into action by the younger one. He could appreciate the eagerness from the other, how desperate Junkrat seemed and felt in his arms. He was trembling, which was not new, but the normal shakes and twitches Junkrat had was nothing compared to this. Roadhog broke the kiss, again, before trailing his lips down against Junkrat's jawline until he found his neck.

"Easy." he assured him with a deep, soft word. "Don't panic."

"Panic? Who, what? Me? Never!" Junkrat said shakily, fingers curling against Roadhog's neck and shoulders. "Dunno what you're talkin' about."

"You're a terrible liar." Roadhog said, resting his forehead down and against Junrkat's shoulder. "Should get better at it if you want to remain a criminal mastermind."

Junkrat huffed like an insulted child, but hooked his one good leg up and over Roadhog's thick side as best he could. He nuzzled closer, eyebrows narrowed still, but he felt content regardless. Roadhog hadn't pulled away. He hadn't talked about this being it. They were all out cuddling one another on the bed after making out, so that meant stuff was serious. Right? Should he ask? Roadhog didn't like talking too much about anything. If anything these were the most words he'd heard Roadhog say in a long while, and that's saying something.

So for now he holds onto him. Almost afraid to let go.

The kisses against his chest earns Roadhog a happy little wriggle, and giggle, from the younger man. He smiled against his skin, before resting his head down on the pillow and, slowly, sighed. This was comfortable. How quickly it had turned to this, from a hidden kiss to a leather mask, to a retaliation of belly raspberries and now this. Why fight it? People fought instincts all the time. And Roadhog was not a person; he hadn't been a person in a long time. So his instincts spoke of touch, desperation for touch and kisses that he only wanted from Junkrat.

Nobody else deserved it. And most certainly nobody deserved to be treated like this by Junkrat, either. They'd been working together for over a year now. There was a connection. Funny though, ask Roadhog about this a year ago and he would have snorted and laughed at the very notion of having a connection with someone. Least of all a physical attraction to somebody, especially someone built like Junkrat. And yet, here they were.

Would he change it?

Never. Not ever, for anything.

After all, what's his, is his.


End file.
